


Conduit

by MarvelMatt



Series: Agent Conduit Series [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), inFAMOUS: Second Son
Genre: Afterlife, Afterlife Colony (Marvel), Alternate Universe, Awkward Grant Ward, Big Brother Grant Ward, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Families of Choice, Flashbacks, Grant Ward-centric, Inhuman!Ward, Protective Avengers, Protective Grant Ward, SHIELD, SHIELD 616 | The Bus, SHIELD vs HYDRA, Season/Series 01, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6516646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelMatt/pseuds/MarvelMatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a fifteen year old Grant Ward accepted a lift to Boston on day from a man he barely knew, minutes after receiving the worst phone call of his young life, there was no way he could've known just how much his life would change as a result of that split-second decision. How much pain and suffering it would bring him, while also giving him a chance to find somewhere he finally, and definitively, could call home.</p><p>Fifteen years later, fully-trained, and well-reputed SHIELD Black Ops Specialist Grant Ward, Codename: Conduit, is reassigned to SHIELD Team 616, where he must hide what he is from his new team, which proves to be harder than he thought, when they are all living in an enclosed space.</p><p>But when dark elements come to light, his secrecy, however reluctant, begs the question - just where exactly, do his loyalties lie?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reassigned

**Chapter One - Reassigned**

 

* * *

 

_“This is Control. We’ve got confirmed Rising Tide in the area”_

“Acknowledged”

_“Command wants us to order you to pull out”_

“Ignore them. We need to get it secured, and I’ll be fine”

_“It’s a complication”_

“Yeah well, if the job was easy-“

_“-it wouldn’t be any fun. Your extraction’s on route”_

Puffing out a breath as he cut power to the engine of the motorbike he’d ‘borrowed’ from where the owner had left it unattended, outside of a bar several blocks away, Level Six SHIELD Specialist Grant Ward slid off the seat and tightened the cuffs of his leather gloves.

Wordlessly, he slipped inside his target destination, using his training to blend into the background, ignoring the idle chatter of the patrons, as he made his way towards the upper floor of the building, before wordlessly slipping inside the apartment and making a beeline for where he knew the safe was hidden.

Bypassing the safe’s security was easy enough, and it took him even less time to identify the mission’s target.

It was going as smooth as a job could go, until the interception team showed up at his door.

 _Well_ , he supposed, _at least he had broken in first this time_.

They wasted no time in attacking first, working as a team in tandem, pushing him backwards and away from the safe, towards the kitchen, where they were hoping to corner him.

Their mistake.

_“Agent Ward, this is Control. Come in”_

He ducked under a high kick from the opponent on his right, before the second caught him with a punch to the chest. The attack didn’t hurt, but it did damage his pride.

If the two idiots that had been sent to stop him managed to even land a blow, then he was either getting too overconfident or too sloppy.

 _Or,_ he growled internally, _too much of both._

Using his advantages in both speed and power, it would be too easy for him to take out both men, he wanted to use his head, now it was now a matter of pride.

_“Agent Ward, report”_

His left hand grabbed the frying pan from the side, before using it to block another attempt at a high kick by colliding with his knee, his attacker staggering back in pain, before collapsing as Ward used the moment of his partner’s hesitation to snap his own leg out in a low kick.

The force shattering his opponent’s kneecap, he dropped to the floor completely, passing out form the sudden influx of pain to his system.

The second man froze at the sight of his now unconscious partner, and before he could regain his senses, the same frying pan connected with the back of his head and Ward’s knee connected with his nose and forehead.

He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

_“Agent Ward. This is command. Report in NOW!”_

Blowing out his frustration, he reached up to tap his earpiece, smacking himself in the side of the face and bringing himself back online, “This is Ward”

 _“Agent Ward”_ , he could hear the disappointment bleeding through his earpiece on just those two words, _“respond quicker next time. We may have enemy combatants in the area. Be aware”_

“ _Really?_ ” He dragged the word out, letting his sarcasm bleed back through his earpiece, “I hadn’t noticed”, attempting to curb his temper, he added, “package secured”

_“Your extraction will be on the roof. Thirty seconds out”_

“Acknowledged. Ward out”

 

* * *

 

Sitting across from Maria Hill, who was looking at him, while seeming unimpressed, irritated and bored at the same time, was definitely not a highly regarded item on his places-I-want-to-be list.

“What does SHIELD stand for Agent Ward?”

Hill’s tone was just like her personality, no nonsense, strictly business all of the time. She was, he had to acknowledge, the very definition of a consummate professional.

“The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division”

She leant back in her chair, seeming to relax slightly, “And just what does that mean?”

“That somebody _really_ wanted our initials to spell ‘SHIELD’”

She shot him a dry look, which indicated that her irritation was beginning to grow back, and quickly, so he pushed forwards with his answer, “It _means_ , that we’re the line”, he was glad to see her relax again slightly, “between the world and the much weirder world, so that things-”

He reached inside his jacket pocket to pull out the package he’d secured yesterday in Paris, before sliding it straight across the table, straight into her waiting hand, and then pulling the cuffs of his gloves tight once again.

“-like this Chitauri neuro-link show up, we can contain them properly and keep them away from the general civilian population”

Seemingly ignoring him as he continued speaking, Hill took a moment to examine the device, before slipping it in to her pocket.

“I’m here to tell you that you’ve been reassigned”

She watched as several emotions flashed across his face, disbelief and confusion being the most prominent, “Erm … I’m sorry Commander?”

“Agent Coulson has requisitioned a mobile command unit to which you are assigned”

“Agent Coulson died during the Battle of New York”, before she could interject, he felt the need to remind her, “not only did I read the report, but I was there”

“You actually read the report?”

“I do have access. I am Level Six”

“Welcome to Level Seven”

He turned from where he was sitting, ignoring the annoyed look on Hill’s face and found himself face to face with a dead man, who was offering him a small grin, amusement dancing behind his eyes.

“Sorry”, his face said he wasn’t, “it was dark and I couldn’t resist. I think there’s a bulb out”

Phil Coulson was alive.

 

* * *

 

 **One Year Earlier**  
SHIELD Helicarrier  
Skies above New York City

 

“What’s the situation!?”

No response.

“Anyone!?”

There was another lurch as the Helicarrier shook in mid-air, and then his comms unit fizzled to life in his ear, a slightly panicked voice filling it a moment later.

“Ward! Is that you?”

“Yes ma’am. What the hell is-“

“It’s The Hulk”, Hill’s voice quivered slightly at the end – for the first time in his life, he can hear actual fear in her voice, “Loki’s men are here. The Hulk’s gone berserk on the lower levels. Thor and Romanoff are trying to contain him. Rogers and Stark are attempting to fix the engines before we fall out the sky”

“And Clint?”

“Agent Barton is the one leading Loki’s forces. We’ve got reports coming in saying he’s making his way towards the detention level. Ward … Loki’s down there … Coulson’s on his way to the cell. They took out our cameras, and we can’t let-“

“I’m already moving to intercept”

Sprinting, he ran straight past the main elevator and straight for the nearest emergency hatch. Dropping six levels down a ladder would be much quicker. He didn’t even have time to waste twisting open the door handles.

Making sure the corridor was clear of other agents as he ran – Hill had said the security cameras were disabled during the initial attack – he swiped at some of the loose smoke that had filtered up from where the engines where, letting it dance around his wrist as his body absorbed it, let himself loose.

His own powers frightened him at times, especially with what it was he could do, so he attempted to never use them unless it became absolutely necessary, but right now Clint needed his help, and he was damn well getting it.

Shifting his body into smoke always made his breath hitch, just before he dashed straight into the hatch’s bulkhead door.

And then moved straight through it, the smoke moving through the gaps at the door’s frame.

Reappearing on the other side, he returned to the flesh, before dropping down the security shaft as gravity took hold of him.

Using his training, he held in the shiver of thrill and fear that crept up his spine as he grabbed hold of the sides of the ladder to slow himself down, counting the levels as he dropped. The moment he saw the ‘D’ stamped on the wall, he wasted no time smoke-dashing through the level’s bulkhead door and dropping into a combat stance.

He moved onto the walkway, one of only two ways to get to Loki’s cell – Coulson should’ve taken the second one – and then peeling off his gloves, he threw them into his back pocket and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The Avenger strode onto the walkway, and he stepped forward to meet him in the middle, his hands up in a defensive pose.

“Clint-“

He was cut off by a fist to his stomach.

It seemed that talking wasn’t going to do him any good.

The two men exchanged blows, their fists colliding in mid-air, their training on full display as they blocked each other’s strikes, their movements well placed, as they were able to match each other perfectly, their knowledge of the other’s fighting abilities giving no man an advantage.

A glancing palm strike to his chest caught him by surprise, but it was enough to push him backwards, and towards the detention room … and Loki’s cell.

It also gave Hawkeye enough room to fire off an arrow.

He attempted to dash in smoke form again, but he hadn’t managed to move when the arrow connected.

He was half-way towards becoming smoke when it struck, pain coursed through him from his shoulder, but it didn’t blow out the way it was supposed to as the arrow moved through him, however the force was enough to knock him even further backwards, right up to the steps, and then, failing to regain his balance, he fell.

His advanced healing helped him shake off the feeling of haziness as he righted himself on the floor, as he attempted to spring back to his feet, before he saw the arrow aimed squarely between his eyes.

Without thinking, he slammed his left hand to the ground and flipped the switch on his powers. He felt the steel grating under his fingertips and then it travelled up his arm.

His body’s cells morphed to match the material, the soft cells of his skin swapping to mimic the stronger, much more durable steel.

The arrow bounced harmlessly off his forehead, falling to the floor, and sparking at the point of contact between his eyes.

_That would’ve been a kill shot._

He darted back up the stairs, ignoring the arrows that were now being fired at him, hearing them clatter to the floor as their momentum abruptly died off against his skin.

He swatted several more aside with his hands before the vents above them caved slightly, drawing their attention away from their fight. Using the distraction, he lashed out, his steel fist breaking the bow cleanly through the middle.

Barton’s blank features registered surprise at the loss of his primary weapon before his partner dropped from the now damaged vent, landing in a crouch behind him.

Deciding she was the bigger threat, Hawkeye threw himself against the Black Widow in a futile attempt at hand to hand combat. She swiped his initial jabs off to the side with her elbows, before throwing all of her weight into a knee that connected with his stomach, and caused all of the air to rush from his lungs.

Ward threw his hands up, palms facing towards the two of them and Widow used the advantage to slam Barton’s head against them.

The steel did its job and the male Avenger dropped to the ground unconscious.

“We need to get him to a sealed medbay”

She didn’t need to tell him twice.

Reverting back to his natural skin, he grabbed the fallen man and hoisted him onto his shoulders, before following the female agent away from the cells and towards the elevator.

 

 _“_ _You know how to pilot one of those jets?”_

_“No”_

_“I can”, sitting up, his hands flew to his head as a rush of pain hit him. Nat hadn’t been kidding when she said she’d hit him upside the head._

_“You got a suit?”_

_“Yeah”_

_“Then suit up”_

 

* * *

 

_“Quinjet 61652. You are unauthorised for departure. Stand down now”_

“This is Agent Barton, open the hangar bay doors”

_“Negative Agent Barton. Director’s orders. No one in or out. Stand down”_

“Damn it”, he cast his eyes over the instrument panel, before turning to his two cohorts, “I can’t override the door controls from here”

“Alright then”, the Captain locked eyes with the two SHIELD agents, “we need a way to open the doors”

“We can’t do that from here”, Romanoff’s explanation caused him to raise his eyebrows, “it’s a security measure. Only the control room can open it, and if it’s unauthorised then a security team will flood the room in seconds. Stops at least some of the enemy combatants from escaping”, she offered as the super-soldier looked more confused.

“Damn it”, he muttered under his breath, “well then we have to-“

He was cut off by the alarm blaring as the hangar doors began sliding open. The amber lights flashed to life, their rotating glow confounding the three Avengers.

_“Clint, get out of here!”_

Rogers just looked more confused, but Barton lunged for the comms unit, “Grant!?”

_“Get out of here and go kick that false god’s ass! I don’t know how long I can hold off the security team for”_

“We’re going”, his hand flew across the panels, bringing the quinjet up to full power as they flew out the doors and towards the city, “and thanks kid”

_“Win this one, then come bail me out, and I’ll consider us even”_

“I’ll even get Stark to buy you a drink. Best whiskey you’re ever gonna have”

_A chuckle filtered through, “I’ll hold you to that. Good luck”_

 

* * *

 

 **Present Day**  
The Hub  
Location Classified

 

He dutifully followed Hill and Coulson into one of The Hub’s many command centres, before they came to a stop in front of a large screen, which was showing footage of a hooded man falling out of an exploding building, landing on his feet and walking away.

“What was that?”

“That Agent Ward, was an unregistered gifted. We believe that he’s a new one as well”

He’d heard these lines before, “You want me to go in and cross him off?”

“What?” Coulson was looking at him as though he were morbid, “No. This man’s life just got a whole lot weirder. He needs our help”

“A welcoming committee”, he was certain that this was Coulson’s idea. Hill obviously thought it was hilarious, but she wouldn’t have made him do _this_ , “I’m a specialist. I go in, I get the job done, _alone_ ”, he stressed the last word, but it was apparent that they weren’t listening to him, “disarming a nuclear bomb, I’m your guy, but _this_ …”

“Your latest marks from Agent Hill are excellent”

He listened as Coulson rattled off his file, completely ignoring him, as well as any objections he had to his new placement, if she hadn’t been before then Hill was definitely looking smug now, “Combat, top marks. Hand-eye coordination, off the charts. Espionage, she gave you the best marks since Romanoff, though considering who your SO was, that’s hardly surprising”

“Why am I being reassigned?”

Coulson flipped the file open the one of the back pages, rotating it to give him a glimpse of a page that contained a crude drawing he couldn’t distinguish, before he pulled the file back towards himself.

“Under people skills, Agent Hill gave you that drawing”, he looked contemplative for a moment, “I think it’s a little poop, with knives sticking out of it-”

If Coulson expected him to laugh then he was going to disappointed, he ignored his Commander muttering about porcupines as Coulson rolled on.

“-My point is that my team needs a specialist, and I think, that maybe, just maybe, that you’re the perfect man for the job”

And it didn’t look like he was going to be getting out of this.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve checked out the files on your new team. There’s no one there that warrants you wearing your gloves all of the time. Fieldwork only should suffice, so you can relax in that department”

He nodded as he and Hill walked alongside each other in the corridor, heading towards the apartments section of The Hub. He needed to pack his bags and she needed to speak to him outside of the confines of a recorded session in a briefing room, “Are any of them-“

“None of them will be made aware of your _particular_ skillset, it is, and remains, classified Level Nine Intel. Agent Coulson is your team leader, you will be serving as his second-in-command, and both of you will remain, for now at least, at Levels Eight and Seven respectively, Congratulations by the way on the promotion, it is well deserved”

He nodded again, “Thank you. What are my orders regarding my skillset. I’m going to be spending nearly all of my time on this plane for the foreseeable future, and I do occasionally have to use _it_ when I’m out in the field”

“I know that Grant, and Director Fury is also aware of this”, they reached his door, and paused, making themselves face each other, “and while we couldn’t deny Coulson’s request at having you as his team’s Specialist, we would prefer that your _skills_ stay under the radar, however, if it should become unavoidable…”, she trailed off, the implication clear.

Keep it hidden unless absolutely necessary.

 

* * *

 

Hill forwarded him a copy of the Level Seven files for each of his new teammates. They were pretty barren, and made for dull reading, but he made a point of memorising them anyway. Two of them were too young to have anything of actual note in their files, and the other two had quite a large portion of their files redacted, citing a higher clearance level needed, but at least he now had faces and names for when he met them tomorrow.

 

 **Phillip Coulson** _Level Eight. Team 616 leader. Field agent, specialising in hostage negotiation and first contact situations. Fifty-one years old. Responsible for the bringing together of The Avengers. ‘Died’ during the ‘Battle of New York’, now returning to field work. Solid marksman and average combat skills._

 **Melinda May** _Level Seven. Team 616 pilot. Forty-nine years old. Former field agent trained as a weapon‘s specialist, and formerly partnered to Phil Coulson, now serving in administration due to ‘personal reasons’, after the events of a mission in Bahrain, the same mission in which she earned the moniker ‘The Cavalry’. Formerly an above average marksman and combatant – current ability unknown due to having left fieldwork several years ago. Agent May has agreed to pilot the aircraft, but not to re-enter the field as a combat specialist._

 **Leopold Fitz & Jemma Simmons ** _Both Fitz and Simmons have individual files, but are listed together often enough for management to warrant giving them a combined file. A team since their early days at SHIELD’s Sci-Ops Academy, **FitzSimmons,** as they are called, are considered to be a single unit. One is an engineer and the other a biochemist, however I am unsure as to which is which. Both are twenty five years old. Neither one has been into the field before. **NOTE -** FitzSimmons are **NOT** cleared for combat._

 

Unconsciously he tightened the cuffs of his gloves again, before scowling as he re-read the information. He was working with two agents – admittedly legends in their own right – but two agents that were also past their prime, one of which was refusing fieldwork, and then he had two kids that he just knew he was going to be made to look after, that weren’t even cleared for combat.

Why in the hell of it where they going to be in the field if they weren’t cleared for combat!?

A firefight was almost a certainty.

And they wanted his powers to _remain hidden_?

_Coulson’s insane._

Resisting the urge to pull his own hair out, he snapped shut the notebook he’d been flipping through, and tossed it on top of the duffel bag he’d packed ahead of his moving to the plane he’d be living in from the morning onwards.

He’d already returned his apartment’s entry card – there was no use paying for something he no longer needed. Then he’d stored all of his possessions into his only bag. All he needed to do now was leave first thing in the morning.

Maybe the team would surprise him.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t.

Fitz and Simmons finished each other’s thoughts sentences, they were (in a word he’d never say aloud) – ‘adorable’ – like two little puppies, where the most painful thing they’d experienced in their lives was a brief tap on the nose with a newspaper.

Their first real firefight they ran into was going to rattle them completely, and after meeting them, he wasn’t sure they’d be able to handle it.

May was exactly what he expected. Cold, blunt to a point of being callous, calculating, and despite her age, she was _extremely_ attractive. She could’ve easily passed herself off as someone who was fifteen years younger.

Looking at her, he could see the legend she was, but he could also see the ghosts of what had happened in Bahrain etched deeply under her skin, her own demons just lurking there. Pain that hid just beneath the surface of her skin, hiding behind steel eyes, just waiting for her to unleash them on the world.

God help whoever was foolish enough to stand in her way on that day.

And Coulson?

He’d met children that seemed less naïve than him.

Okay that wasn’t completely fair. He’d read through Coulson’s file, and he was definitely someone he could see himself enjoying working for. Hill’s personal notes had him pegged as a by-the-book SHIELD agent, and a resounding company man through and through.

He had apparently also worked with Barton in the past and had overseen Romanoff when she was recruited to SHIELD in the beginning, so he thought they’d at least be able hold a conversation over that if nothing else.

Half an hour after walking onto The Bus for the first time, his mind is set on one thing.

Hill needs a new set of notes.

 

* * *

 

They track the IP address used by the member of the Rising Tide responsible for uploading the videos of their gifted onto the internet. Coulson drives the SUV, leaving his beloved Lola behind (and just why did he feel the need to bring a collectible car - with a name - on a long-term mission?), and leading the two of them straight for the source’s current location.

Coulson tells him an anecdote about a woman walking a dog that seems pointless, but when he catches the man sporting an amused half-smile while shaking his head at him, he realises his mistake.

It was supposed to be a joke.

He still doesn’t get it.

Why does the man insist on making them (cracking them?) while they’re supposed to be working?

They track the source to a single van parked up in an alley, and they waste no time in pulling open the door, and looking every bit the agents the Rising Tide have been describing, they find their mystery hacker mid-broadcast, she makes a half-assed snarky remark at them, and he wastes no time in throwing the black hood he has over her head.

But not before he takes in what she looks like.

She’s stunning.

Completely and utterly breathtakingly beautiful.

But that’s not what captures his attention.

It’s not the way her hair shines ever so slightly in the sunlight, nor is it the look of innocence that she flashes them when they appear in front of her out of nowhere.

It’s definitely not a certain part of her upper anatomy that he fights to resist glancing at.

It’s her eyes.

The two of them lock eyes for barely a second before the bag covers them, but he would recognise those exact shape and colour eyes anywhere.

The eyes he first saw on one of the worst days of his life.

They’re eyes that remind him of home.

They’re the eyes of the woman that saved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to Freddyfrmelmst (ff.net) for help with the premise.
> 
> So this is the first chapter of a new work (and series), which combines Agents of SHIELD with elements inspired from inFAMOUS: Second Son.
> 
> Please leave me a review below, and let me know what you think - it'll only take a minute and I'll feel much better for it.
> 
> And as always, please feel free to message me about anything - I always reply and enjoy speaking with you all.
> 
> -MarvelMatt


	2. Soldier Boy

**Chapter Two – Soldier Boy**

 

* * *

 

 **Fifteen Years Ago**  
**Plymouth Military Academy for Boys**  
 **Plymouth, Massachusetts**

 

Sergeant Blake Murphy prided himself on his ability to instil, not only a high level of discipline, but also a sense of fraternity and comradery amongst his charges.

Each of the days’ exercises changed daily, but they the same as they always had been, and as far as he was concerned, they always would be. Today was Tuesday, which for his boys, meant that after their 0600 wake up call, they all had thirty minutes to get showered (cold water only of course), shaved (those who actually needed to), dressed into their uniforms for morning inspection, and then they had another half hour to have their breakfast in the mess.

Sitting at his place on the staff table, he looked on as his cadets all filed in, some of them chatting animatedly, discussing their day compared to what some of the other platoons were going to be doing. His platoon (the Fifth Platoon), were particularly excitable over their breakfast.

For today was a Tuesday.

And Tuesdays meant they had the day to spend on the range.

Even he enjoyed those days more than the others.

He was an ex-marine, who was notably distinguished for his sharpshooter skills, and he loved taking his cadets – all twenty-two of them – out and onto the Academy’s shooting range, where he could attempt to pass on his skills to the next generation of his country’s protectors.

Most of his boys were shaping up to be pretty decent marksmen in the years to come, but one of them already stood head and shoulders above the rest.

Cadet Grant Douglas Ward.

The boy had been dropped off by his parents four months ago, arriving in the middle of the night, all smiles at the front gate, before becoming upset as they’d spoken with the staff in private.

The boy was nothing but trouble – a real hell-raiser. He’d been caught apparently trying to drown his own younger brother in an old well the family had at the bottom of their (presumably rather large) garden. They didn’t want to send one of their own sons to prison, and felt that they were out of options.

Military school was their last chance, and they’d all only been too happy to help out one of the state’s most illustrious families. The Wards, after all, were a political and social juggernaut, and by far one of the most influential families in Massachusetts, and they even had a notable presence on the national stage.

Basically, even if you wanted to, you didn’t refuse them anything.

_Anything._

They’d signed the paperwork, exchanged a few pleasant words about the school’s funding and then the parents departed back for Boston, but not before obtaining a guarantee from them that the boy wouldn’t be treated any differently, just because he was their son.

The two of them moved away from the PMA staff, thanking them once again, before they crossed the distance to their car, sliding into the backseat, and waving goodbye to their third child as their driver pulled off of the premises and away into the night.

Every member of staff noted the boy’s completely apathetic response to his parent’s departure. He just didn’t react. His tall, yet skinny frame was taught, wound tightly like a coil looking ready to snap. Their quartermaster, Mr Rollins, took him by the shoulder, steering him towards the stores, getting the boy kitted out while they sorted his placement.

He’d be sorted into his platoon first thing in the morning.

Hopefully the boy wouldn’t be too much trouble.

 

* * *

 

Too much trouble?

He couldn’t believe that’s what his first thoughts had been towards the boy.

The boy was what the very definition of a natural soldier should be.

When he’d agreed to take him into his platoon, Blake honestly thought that he’d have to spend weeks getting the boy into the right state of mind, breaking him into the right attitude. Politicians weren’t soldiers. They didn’t know how to fight, how to bleed and sweat, how to die, so why should their children?

But the boy was like a sponge.

His first morning there, he looked just as impeccable as he expected all of his cadets to be. The boy ate how he was expected to, taking the last space at the back, he expected to see him whine about his position, or the fact that he had last pick at the food.

But he didn’t.

He kept his head down, keeping himself to himself, and got on with whatever the day’s tasks where. He ran the obstacle courses like he’d been running them for years. His cleaning was up-to-standard, his uniforms were always clean and pressed, and his boots were shined highly enough to see his reflection staring back at him.

But while he, and the other staff decided to keep their opinions to themselves, they were impressed by his constant ability to look like a third year trained cadet instead of a new recruit, but it was at the shooting range that he finally got a feel for just how good the boy could be - if he was trained right.

All recruits started off using a basic recurve bow before they were allowed to move onto the handguns, rifles and shotguns. He’d shown him the proper way to stand, how to aim, the proper breathing technique, and then they’d had a quick safety talk before leaving him under the supervision of Hank, their new quartermaster – he’d shown up two days after Mr Rollins had left abruptly, citing a new job offer.

That was a stroke of luck if there ever was one.

And when he came back just fifteen minutes later, the centre of the target was littered with arrows.

There were a few in and around the edges of the target, where he’d obviously been trying to get a feel for the weapon, and then all of his shots where inside the seventh, eighth, ninth and centre rings, his groupings getting tighter the longer he practiced - the boy was a prodigy!

“Kid, your hand-eye coordination is off the charts! You should be learning how to use a fucking sniper rifle!”

“Language, Mr Daughtry”

Both the quartermaster and the young Ward whipped around to find the Sergeant walking back towards them. Nervous at the sight of the new arrival, Daughtry’s hand went instinctually to the back of his bald head, as he rubbed anxious circles, “Hank’s fine, Sergeant Murphy. No need to be so formal with me”

“Hank”, the word came out jerkily from a man unused to using causal terms with his peers, “Are they all…”, he trailed off, nodding towards the target, unsure on how to phrase his question, but was saved by the interjection of their new quartermaster.

“Every single one’s been fired off by the kid. I mean … I say you should give him something bigger”

Admittedly, for a civilian, that was a good idea.

So over the next several hours of the day, Murphy left Hank and a few of his more experienced and trusted cadets in charge of supervising the group while he took the kid through the handgun, using the 9mm Browning as the training weapon.

Within fifteen minutes the boy could name every part of the weapon, within another fifteen he could strip it and put it back together with only minor corrections being needed.

By the end of the first hour, he was firing down the range like he was an experienced cadet. By the end of the second, he looked like he was an actual marksmen.

Feeling curious, he moved the boy onto the .22 target rifle.

And it was the same result.

Five minutes to clean the bolt and chamber, and another five to remove and replace it with the sling. Another half hour, and his shooting skills were better than every other cadet in his platoon.

The assault rifle took longer because of its much more advanced set-up, but by the end of their second hour there, the results were the same, a small amount of practice turned the boy into a marksman.

The 12 gauge shotgun was child’s play for him, and pretty soon the floor was littered in clay pieces.

He couldn’t wait to put the boy’s name down as his lead marksman for the year’s training day competition.

 

* * *

 

Cadet Ward was also now the tallest member in his platoon, so he found himself marching at the front of the squad, leading by example as they marched towards the range.

He’d been there a while now, and the staff had all noted how he didn’t have any friends.

While the others made connections, mostly as an attempt to replace the feelings they had for the siblings and friends they’d left back home, the boy just didn’t want to. They’d seen him at sports nights and during their down time, but he never even made an attempt to go near them, he just kept away from everybody and read whatever books he managed to get his hands on. Someone (he was pretty sure it was Corporal Ryder – their resident military fiction geek) kept lending him books, and he seemed to have read every single one of them so far, because he just kept getting more and more.

They spent their day on the range, as he looked on, watching how some of the younger and newer cadets idolised the boy, watching in awe as he stepped up to the shooting mats, handgun aimed squarely down the range, emptying the entire mag into the target’s centre in under ten seconds before stepping back.

He might not want friends, but whether he liked it or not, he had admirers.

It was the same no matter the activity. If they were cleaning he’d take the hardest jobs to save the younger ones the trouble. When they went hiking, he always had extra water and rations for the ones who’d forgotten. When they spent Tuesday afternoons in the gym for physical training, he always went last, letting the others rest while he ran it when Coach Griffith was at his most irritable.

With half the stuff he did, he wouldn’t be surprised if there was an official fan club somewhere.

It was on their way back that Hank called Ward away.

For the first time since the boy had arrived, there was a phone call from home for him.

 

* * *

 

He was numb.

He thought that since he was longer in the way that Christian would leave Thomas alone. Rose was a vindictive, lying and manipulative bitch, he had to acknowledge that much, but she wouldn’t (and had never) physically put her hands on Thomas.

And now Thomas was lying on a hospital bed and Rose had been the one to call him, hysterical and half-sobbing as she tried, and failed, to describe what exactly it was that had happened.

Hysteria made for bad conversation.

He hung up the phone with his mind made up.

He had to go back to Boston.

And he had to do it tonight.

 

* * *

 

Picking up the second receiver in his office, Hank listened in on every word the girl spewed out, hiding her amusement at her brother behind mock-anger, and he looked on through the window as the boy’s face morphed from his now-standard blank mask of calmness into complete disbelief, then falling in to fear, before burning in anger, and then finally settling completely into resolve, as he bought into what she was selling.

It was a look that Hank himself was familiar with.

It was a look that he found in the mirror whenever he thought _they_ were getting close to him.

The boy was gonna make a run for it.

And that was his completely non-suspicious ticket out of here.

He still had a briefcase of the few pods he’d managed to steal stashed under the bed in his quartermaster’s cabin. He’d been at the school for too long though, he needed to get moving again, he needed to get back to Emily, and the kid was a great way to get out of there.

He didn’t have to wait long for his chance.

All the other cadets were currently in the mess, grabbing their dinner, when he saw the boy emerge from his cabin, his lone pack slung over his shoulder, and dressed in the black tac outfit they all had for night exercises rather than their usual camouflage.

Keeping an eye out for any of the staff or other cadets, the boy wandered out into the carpark, obviously looking to hotwire a car, he was scoping out the vehicles, obviously looking for an older model, one without a car alarm or a tracking device.

It was time to make his move.

Silently, he crossed the carpark, grabbing the boy’s shoulder from behind when he came into reach, the kid span around bringing his hands up in a defensive position, a look of fear spreading across his face.

“I’ve got a truck over here”

The kid assessed him for less than a minute, before nodding curtly, relaxing ever so slightly, and following him before sliding into the passenger’s seat of his pick-up.

He didn’t speak, and no words were necessary between them. Why they the other was leaving just wasn’t any of their business. They were just two people riding together in case they were stopped on their way and they needed an excuse to be there if people got suspicious, which wouldn’t surprise either of them – the two of them could easily pass off as an uncle and nephew.

He slid his silver briefcase onto the floor next to the boy’s legs and was relieved when he didn’t say anything. The kid just wanted to get home, and he just wanted to find Emily now that he had a few of the pods.

He could use one the pod in his jacket pocket on her before selling the rest he had in the briefcase on as potential weapons.

Maintaining their silence, the truck roared to life, and the two of them pulled away and into the late evening air.

 

* * *

 

The radio played some old country music that Hank didn’t know, his many years spent in prison had hampered his ability to recognise anything that a regular person would view as the norm.

His time spent away from the rest of the world after that hadn’t done him any good in that regard either.

The kid didn’t even seem to notice that the music was playing.

They were mostly heading towards Boston, where he was going to drop the kid off, when it happened.

They struck.

There was no warning, no signs, so it was obvious that they’d been tracking him for a while, setting up an ambush for him.

A lone gunshot took out one of the tires, sending them spinning out of control and off the side of the road. Their airbags deployed as they were brought to a crashing stop, dazing both men, sending their world into fuzz.

Hank’s fingers jumbled inside of his jacket, fumbling for the single pod he’d kept there, and feeling better when his fingers were safely secured around it.

A brief glance to his left told the man that his passenger had exited the vehicle, and was no doubt somewhere on the floor, _probably throwing up from a concussion_ , he thought grimly.

He could’ve used the boy’s help around now – he was one of the top students in his combat class.

_Between the combat skills and the shooting ability, the kid would be a real fighter when he was older - and really useful right about now._

Before he could begin to plan his escape, Hank felt himself being wrenched from his seat through the window, before being thrown to the floor.

“Well boys, looks like we got ourselves a catch”

He recognised _that_ voice.

He pushed himself up to his knees and was awarded with three men looming over him. Each wore black military combat trousers and flak jackets, with dark sunglasses to hide their eyes and a scarf that covered their faces below the nose.

“Y’know Al, the way this is going, we’ll have him done and dusted by lunch. Then what’ll we do?”

“You’re right Mick, we should at least have a little fun first”

His fingers grasped the pod tighter.

The car creaked as his back hit the door that was half hanging off the frame, clutching the pod tighter as they rained down on him with their fists, he felt the blood pouring from his mouth and staining his shirt, and then, as suddenly as they had started, they stopped.

He forced his eyes open just enough to see the boy crawl around the corner, bleeding from a gash at the top of his head, no doubt from his head smacking the dashboard.

Now it was his opportunity.

The one who had identified himself as ‘Mick’, grabbed the boy by his collar, earning him a quiet groan, before throwing him alongside the car door, the boy’s head bouncing off the door’s mirror, smashing the mirror, and giving him new wounds on his head, he turned a shade paler, he was thirty seconds away from throwing up – for the second time, if the smell was any indication.

Resolved to end this before they killed him, he sent a silent apology to the boy as he slipped his hand out of his jacket. Determined he raised his hand into the air-

“-What’s he doing?

“-Stop him!?”

-and smashed the pod against the ground, releasing the mist.

The three men inhaled in instant shock, which proved to be their fatal mistake.

The mist flooded their lungs, mingling with their DNA and searching for the vitals parts necessary for the work to finish, only to be unable to find them.

The stone casing crawled up their bodies, starting at the base of their legs, rapidly inching further and further up their bodies. The three men shared a look of absolute terror as the rock covered the faces before the process was done.

A dull groan turned his attention away from the men he’d killed at towards the boy, his face was flushed with fear as he struggled against the stone that had grew to cover his chest, and the two men locked eyes.

He didn’t see the strong young man he’d taken from the Academy.

He saw a boy determined not to scream.

“I’m sorry kid, but a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. It’s nothing personal”

And the boy moved no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have Chapter 2!
> 
> Just so you all know, the current plan is to try and intermingle Ward's backstory (and maybe some of the others), by doing full flashback chapters, as opposed to the mid-chapter breaks like in Chapter 1 - but please let me know if you'd prefer it the other way around.
> 
> And as always, please leave a review!
> 
> -MarvelMatt


	3. Sunlight

**Chapter Three – Sunlight**

 

* * *

 

_They’re the eyes of the woman that saved him._

 

That’s his dominant thought as they make their way back to The Bus. Coulson drives them, the girl sat quietly in the backseat, and he can’t stop from shooting her glances in the rear-view mirror every few seconds.

Coulson’s a trained agent, he’s sure to have noticed, but he doesn’t say anything, either he’s too focused on driving, which given his penchant for attempting jokes he finds unlikely, or he’s just choosing to ignore it - ignore him - for the time being.

Eventually he gives up on sneaking glances and settles on just blatantly staring at her, keeping his eyes trained on the mirror, watching on as the girl shakes her head lightly from side-to-side, trying to worm her way out of the bag he threw over her head.

He just can’t take his eyes off her.

It’s not a long drive back to their plane, and before long they’re pulling smoothly up onto the ramp, coming to a complete stop alongside Coulson’s precious collectible car, Ward didn’t wait for Coulson to finish parking before he had slipped out of the passenger’s seat, pulling open the rear door, and helping their anonymous hacker out of the SUV.

He takes her elbow, and careful of her handcuffs, as he guides her up the stairs towards The Cage, their built-in interrogation room and prison cell. Swiping the door open, he propelled her inside and moved her towards the chair, helping her sit before he secured her wrists to the table while the door remained opened.

It occurs to him as he finishes, that this is the gentlest he’s ever been with a suspect, and the thought makes him frown as Coulson steps into the room behind him, sealing the door, and taking the seat in front of the girl, giving him the nod to unlock the cuffs.

He does so, her skin looking soft, the tan honey against the black leather of his gloves, swallowing, he reaches up to her neck, loosening the bag and pulling the black bag off her head.

Her hair shimmered slightly as she shook her head free from its restraint, glaring at the both of them, his frown was already in place as a response, while Coulson just smiled genially, in an attempt to put her at ease.

“Hey. What up?”

He wasn’t impressed, but Coulson was just sitting there, just looking at her, amused at what he saw.

“Hello. I’m Agent Phil Coulson. The man beside you is Agent Ward. We’re both agents of-“

“SHIELD right? I told him you’d be coming”

“So, would you like to know why we’re here?”

“You wanna take Mike in, right? Lock him up with the rest of the ‘freaks’, or experiment on him?”

“So his name’s Mike? That’s a good place to start”, Coulson keeps smiling, ignoring the look of sudden despair as she realised what she had let slip to them, “why don’t you tell us your name next”

She regards him carefully, quickly uttering “Skye”, before her attention is completely taken over by tall, dark and handsome leaning over the table, occupying the space next to her.

“What’s your real name?”

She stares at him, long and hard, their eyes are locked and she’ll admit that he’s attractive, sure - she has eyes, but it’s the way he looks at her that has her going. The intensity burning in his gaze makes her shiver, it’s almost as though he was searching for something within her, staring into her soul.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that before Agent Coulson clears his throat, drawing their attention away from each other and towards him.

The older man shoots his partner a questioning look, and all he gets in return is a blank look, all emotion wiped clear in an instant. Skye can feel her face burning, a blush is definitely spread across her cheeks.

And she’s not quite sure why.

 

* * *

 

They get quite a bit of information out of her, but she’s good, learning how they’re getting the information from her and she changes the way she answers them.

He’s almost impressed.

They now have a few leads on the gifted man from the video, whose name is Mike Peterson, to follow up, ‘Project Centipede’ to look into, and now Coulson wants to girl to trust them.

 

_Why?_

 

He doesn’t trust her.

But he wants her to stay with them anyway.

 

_What. The. Hell?_

 

It’s gotta be those damn eyes – seeing them has thrown him completely off his game, she’s gotten under his skin, and thrown him without uttering a damn word.

_I need to go home at some point soon. She’s gonna be worried._

_And pissed._

His thoughts capture him momentarily, and that’s why he doesn’t see Coulson moving to stab him in the shoulder with the truth serum they had gathered earlier from their on-board stores.

“What the hell Coulson?”

Coulson just smiles that _goddamn_ infuriatingly genial smile, “I’m sorry”, _he’s not_ , “did that hurt?”

“No”, he know he sounds like a petulant child, but _what the hell?_ He rubs at his shoulder, feeling the injection flowing through his veins, and he’s glad he isn’t indestructible at the moment, because _that_ would’ve taken some explaining, “And yes it did hurt, but I always try and mask my pain in front of beautiful woman because I think it makes me seem more masculine”

He rubs again at the injection spot, and looks up, only to find Coulson looking smug and the girl - Skye - gaping openly at him.

Then he realises what he just said, and he feels his eyes widen in response. He misses what Coulson says to her, before he feels the older man making his way out of The Cage.

“This definitely isn’t protocol!”

That’s all he gets out before Coulson moves out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

The girl smirked at him, enjoying the role reversal, and looking like the cat that got the cream as she shrugged off her jacket, inadvertently pressing her breasts closer together and drawing his attention away from where he had been staring at her face.

If possible, he’d say she looks even smugger now.

The tight fitting, purple shirt wasn’t helping him out with his concentration and focus either.

“You seem nervous, Agent Ward”

He swallowed, _hard_ , “Not nervous, no”

“Really?”

“I am _not_ nervous. I don’t get nervous”

“Really, and why is that?”

“Well, when you’ve pretty much seen everything there is to see, there’s not much left to make you worry”

She raised one eyebrow at him, her curiosity was beyond peaked, “So you’ve seen everything right? Like The Avengers?”

“I’ve met them”

“What? Really?” Her voice shot up in pitch, looking excitable, it didn’t take much for him to figure out that she was a fangirl (that was the word wasn’t it?), and if it kept her from getting him to give away classified SHIELD intel, then he was all for it.

“Yes. Some of them are friends. I was considered to join their team at the early stages, but I was rejected”

If it was possible, her eyes bugged out even further.

“You were supposed to be an Avenger?”

“I was considered, but they turned me away early on. It wasn’t a good fit”

“Oh”, she looked torn between being disappointed and sorry, before brightening up again, “so who’s your favourite Avenger then?”

“Black Widow”, his answer didn’t miss a beat, but if he didn’t start putting more into this, he was willing to guess she’d get bored pretty quickly, “let me guess … Iron Man?”

She bit her lip and ducked her head as a response, which was all the answer he needed.

“Agent Coulson loves Captain America”, her head shot up, eyes widening in surprise at his free giving away of information, “I’m sure he’d love to argue the point between both of them with you”

Her eyes narrowed at his tone, ”You sound like you don’t like Agent Coulson”

“I don’t have to like him, he’s my boss. My job is to follow his orders”

“And you don’t question them?”

“If you start to question them, then they become pointless. Orders are only orders if they’re followed-”

“-Your head’s bobbing. Are you alright?”

He can feel it now that she’s mentioned it, his head is lightly swaying from side-to-side as he speaks, and a quick glance at his watch tells him it’s been three minutes since he was injected by Coulson.

 

_The serum’s wearing off._

 

“I’m fine”

“Then what’s happening?”

“I’m gonna have that nap I mentioned”, he yawns widely, “Coulson probably wants to speak to you. You should go see him-”

“How?”

He can barely hear her, as he rests his head against the table, the cool metal feels nice against his skin, “-door’s unlocked”

He’s asleep before she can ask him anything else.

 

* * *

 

Leaving the door open behind her, she stepped into what she thought for definite, was going to be their top-secret base, though she could recall them not being at all concerned when she’d gloated about being in their ‘super-secret headquarters’.

It’s because she’s on a plane.

It’s a nice plane though - much nicer than her van - and she makes her way towards where she can hear noise coming from, making her way into a lounge area, where she finds who she’s looking for, and some others.

Agent Coulson’s there of course, Agent Ward had mentioned he was in charge here, so it made sense that there would be more people there.

The first was an Asian women, probably around Coulson’s age if she had to guess, stood at the back of the room. She had the same look that Agent Ward had when he was just standing around, that no-nonsense, emotionless blank mask.

The other two people in the room, one boy and one girl, were much closer to her age, looking all cute as a button, like a matching set of people, she could hear them speaking in hushed whispers, seemingly finishing off each other’s arguments. They both had accents when they spoke, but they were arguing too quietly for her to make them out.

“Is he asleep?”

She was brought out of her musings by Coulson’s voice, bringing her attention to him as she nodded, and he allowed a small smile to dance at his lips.

“So … what did he tell you?”

“That he doesn’t get nervous”, she felt the others’ attention focus on her fully, probably wanting gossip material on their friend, “because he’s pretty much seen everything there is to see. His favourite Avenger is the Black Widow, some of The Avengers are actually his friends, and he was considered to join The Avengers when they were starting, but was eventually rejected”

She notices the two in the corner start whispering even more furiously to each other, while the older woman was ignoring them and staring at her fully.

“Is that all?”

She shifted her attention back to the team leader, “Oh, and apparently you love Captain America”, she grins at him, letting it grow wider as he responds with one of his own.

“Yeah”, he looks off into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes, “he’s really cool”

She giggles slightly, and he looks suitably chagrined.

It doesn’t take them long to have some semblance of a serious conversation, and she likes Coulson’s style, even if it seems that Agent May doesn’t, or just doesn’t care.

Then it’s agreed, the British science twins - who call themselves FitzSimmons (like she said - they’re an adorable matching set) - need the audio she has in her van to ‘sync-up’ with the data they already have. So she and Agent May, who looks like the emotional equivalent of a brick wall, are returning to her van to get a copy of it, while the science babies are going to prep to receive her audio, and Coulson’s going to wake up Ward.

They actually have a plan.

And maybe while they’re at it, she can find what she’s looking for.

 

* * *

 

FitzSimmons are trying to have their paralysing weapon ready to go, their night-night gun (there is no way in hell he’s going to allow them to call it that if he has to use it in the field), and Coulson wants him to wait – he _orders_ him to wait.

He’s never been the greatest at following his orders when he thought they were stupid - a bad habit he picked up from his SO during his training - and he can do the math in his head.

One man’s life against hundreds of lives – potentially even thousands.

That’s not a choice.

That’s how he decides his targets.

They’ve got a location.

And he picks up the short range sniper rifle, completely ignoring his superior as he loads it into the back of the SUV.

He knows Coulson wants to argue with him, but they don’t have time, people are in danger, and he’s already getting ready to move.

Glaring at him silently, but saying nothing, Coulson slides into the passenger’s seat.

 

* * *

 

Coulson’s attempt at talking down the desperate and violent super-powered man goes about as well as Ward expected it to.

The side door to Skye’s van is torn off and thrown straight at them, aiming to take them both out.

Coulson hit the floor, immediately dropping to avoid it, and, after making sure his boss wasn’t looking, Ward dashed through it, leaving a light trail of smoke in his wake, as he solidified on the other side.

He found himself momentarily glad for the mass panic, as it allowed him to use his powers in public without being seen.

Or recorded on video.

He shot into the station, wasting no time in giving chase, as Coulson scrambled to his feet, calling for May and FitzSimmons to join up with them, and ordering the science duo to have their magic weapon ready.

The station’s panicking slightly, the hysteria from the outside already spreading to the people inside. Tracking them down should take him a few minutes, but Skye is apparently a smart one.

She’s started a fight between Peterson and a group of idiots, who quickly realise just how badly they’re at a disadvantage and try to flee, which would be great normally, they’re causing the rest of the people to panic and leave, as well as taking the attention off of him, but now Peterson’s angrier, and he’s turned his attention to the only available target.

Skye.

And his rage is intense.

 

_Da_ _mmit! The girl’s not meant to be involved._

 

“Mike Peterson!”

His yell brings the super-solider away from where he’s stalking towards Skye, towering over her like a predator, and bringing his attention to where he’s crossing the room, leaving the rifle with Coulson and tightening the cuffs of his gloves as he runs, making a beeline straight towards the two of them.

His eyes are wide, his nostrils are flaring and his mouth is contorted into a snarl, the serum’s taking over him completely.

 

_He’s unstable._

 

And if this scenario ends up with him turning out like the rest of the Extremis soldiers, then they’re in for some serious trouble.

There’s some sunlight filtering through the upper windows, but it’s mostly blocked by all the stands and pillars decorating the train station, but the designer obviously wanted the area to be lighted by natural light, so there’s enough for what he needs.

Shifting his body, he can feel the sunlight against his body, letting the sun’s rays strike against his skin. His can feel the change as his cells drink in their radiation, a piece of the sun’s power coursing through his veins.

He knows he needs direct sunlight to get the full effect, to get all of his potential, but even the half amount he’s getting should help him tip the scales, if only to balance them.

As if determined to put that to the test, Peterson crosses the room towards him, looking every inch like a predator that’s stalking his prey. Behind him, he can see Skye getting herself out of there, and ushering Mike’s son out of the station, escorting him away from the danger.

 

_Good. Less civilians means less chances of being seen._

 

Still snarling in anger, spewing rage from his lips, he was surprised to not see him foaming at the mouth, Mike lashed out, aiming his fist square for Ward’s jaw.

And he catches it.

He registered the look of complete shock on Peterson’s face as he turned to face him, offering him one of smugness in return, before he landed a square punch to Mike’s chest.

And then he watched as he slid back several feet.

Felling more enraged now than he had before, Mike threw himself back at the SHIELD specialist.

The two of them exchanged blows, their fists colliding with each other. Using his superior speed as well as his enhanced strength to throw the other man off his game, they fought, and for the first time since this whole mess had started, he can feel the doubt and fear radiating from the Centipede soldier.

He can’t help it.

He grins.

“Ward!”

Coulson is running down the stairs towards them, Skye leading him back the way she fled out, and making their way towards him.

 

_They can’t be here!_

 

The distraction’s what costs him the fight.

He feels Mike’s fist against the bottom of his ribs, and feels his feet leave the floor, as he flies up and across the room, smashing straight through the glass panel on the railings, and rolling to a stop on the floor above.

There’s more sunlight reaching him now, instantly making him stronger and faster, and giving him access to the rest of this particular repertoire. He just needs to get the man on his own, away from civilians and the other agents, and unleash them.

Before he can do anything, there’s two loud bangs.

 

_Gunshots!_

 

It seems that Centipede are trying to recover their missing soldier.

Before he can make any move to stop them, ‘The Calvary’ swoops in to stop him.

He’s seen SHIELD women fight before, he’s fought with people like the Black Widow and Mockingbird, and he’s fought against them. They’re the type of people who fight using circles, using an opponent’s strength against them, while managing to look just completely graceful, like ballet dancers during a sequence.

There’s no grace in what Melinda May does.

She walks up to the guy and just overpowers him, taking him over brutally, and just leaving him unconscious in the dirt.

For a woman who’s physically past her prime, and not to mention several years out of practice in the field, he can’t help it.

He’s extremely impressed.

“Agent Ward-”

It the Scottish one – Fitz – the engineer, running straight towards him with a rifle in his hands, wasting no time in thrusting it straight into his arms..

“The night-night gun, it works, it-“, the engineer is out of breath from his run, panting as he speaks, trying to explain things to him, but only two words register in his mind.

 

_“-it works-“_

 

Snapping around, he digs the butt of the rifle into his shoulder and tenses, prepared to take the recoil of the fire. The scope’s off, and the weight distribution needs to be sorted out before it becomes a viable weapon for consistent field use.

But he isn’t the ‘best since Romanoff’ for nothing, he adjusts accordingly, setting the scope slightly down and to the left of the centre of Peterson’s forehead, taking up the pressure with his finger.

He can see Skye and Coulson down there with him, but pays them no mind, they aren’t what’s important right now.

 

_Take a deep breath, and hold it while you shoot. That’s the key to a straight shot kid._

 

His breath goes in.

His body goes still.

The trigger is pulled.

Mike Peterson falls.

 

* * *

 

“Are you alright?”

The light words in the soft British accent, bring him out of his own musings, and drag his attention to where Agent Simmons is stood, staring at him in concern.

“I’m sorry?”

She chuckled lightly, “I asked if you were alright. Mr Peterson did hit you pretty hard earlier”

“I’m fine”

His response is automatic, an ingrained part of him, but it’s necessary. It keeps people from checking for his injuries, looking into his bloodwork. Stops them from noticing his lack of scars for a specialist, the cuts that aren’t there, the bullet wounds that are already healed.

“Are you-“

“I’m sure”

She looks at him unbelievingly, but nods anyway, before moving to return to her lab, “You did good work today”

She whips back around, eyes slightly wider than normal, “I’m sorry?”

“You and Fitz”, at her still wide eyes, he decides to elaborate, “did good work today, Coming up with a solution that not only stopped Peterson, but also managed to stabilise the Centipede serum in his system in only a few hours. Not many people could’ve pulled that off”

“Well … thank you”, she’s blushing, but feels emboldened by his acknowledgement, “is what Skye said before true? Were you really-“

Before she can press him with any more questions, they’re interrupted by Fitz scrambling through the doorway, with May gliding in behind him, hot on his heels, handing off The Bus’s direct SHIELD line to him, which he quickly presses to his ear, getting a new report.

There’s a potential 0-8-4.

It’s in Peru.

And HQ needs them to go in and confirm it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always dedicate more time to the stories that get the best/most responses, to there's been quite a bit dedicated to this lately, and I hope I haven't disappointed.
> 
> I've got the first dozen chapters outlined, with several more partially ready to go.
> 
> There's a bit more of an insight into Ward's powers - though no one has figured out what it (they) is (are).
> 
> And as always, please leave some feedback below.
> 
> -MarvelMatt


	4. Perfection

**Chapter Four - Perfection**

 

* * *

 

_A dull groan turned his attention away from the men he’d killed at towards the boy, his face was flushed with fear as he struggled against the stone that had grew to cover his chest, and the two men locked eyes._

_He didn’t see the strong young man he’d taken from the Academy._

_He saw a boy determined not to scream._

_“I’m sorry kid, but a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. It’s nothing personal”_

_And the boy moved no more._

 

* * *

 

It was a strange sensation - dying that is.

He could feel himself solidifying - feel his body becoming a stone statue. Both on the inside and the out. It felt like he was being bitten by thousands of fleas, all of them nipping at his feet, piercing their tiny fangs into his skin, thousands or needle-like razors digging straight into him, stinging his muscles and then they were stabbing deeply into his bones.

He scrunched his eyes closed in pain, determined to be strong.

To not be _weak_.

 

_I am afraid._

 

He can’t remember the last time he admitted to that, or even really felt it. He’d learned to bury his fear, to lock it away, to replace it with his anger, with his fury. Instead of letting himself freeze with his fear, he’d learned to burn with his rage, but this time, it’s just too much, _it just hurts_.

If this is how he dies, then why can’t it be quick? Why does it have to take so long?

 

_This is because of Thomas._

_Everything I did to him, and everything I let Christian do to him._

_This is my penance._

 

The pain stops in his feet, he can’t feel them anymore, but the pain just moves up to his shins, he can see how quickly it happens to the other three, he can see how the stone is climbing them like a tree, rapidly coating them, but this feels like forever.

By the time it reaches his hips, he’s starts begging for it to be over.

When it reaches his stomach, he prays one of the other three will take a shot at him.

When his lungs start to burn as he tries and fails to breathe, he stops begging.

It’s clear that no one’s listening.

When the pain reaches his head, and then stops, he tries not to laugh.

Death is a sweet release.

Death _should_ be a sweet release.

But he’s still breathing.

He can hear it.

He can hear his breaths bouncing off the stone around him, cooling and condensing against it, sending little droplets of water dripping down the front of his face. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, the blood still pulsing through his veins.

He isn’t dead.

There’s an audible ‘CRACK’, and then the briefest glimpse of the brightest light he’s ever seen slips through.

More crunching noises can be heard, he can start to feel the wind on his face, hear its light whistle as it moves past him, blowing through the nearby trees.

And then he can see again.

The stars are out, and the moon is bright, half-covered by the light coating of clouds, but still bright enough to illuminate where he is.

He can see the other three people that assaulted them earlier, who are still stuck, unmoving, in their stone coffins.

 

_They’re dead._

 

He fell to his knees as the rest of his stone crumbled around him, turning to dust, and panting, he was determined not to cry tears of relief, he was just grateful to be alive.

“Kid!” He turned his head to see Hank staring at him, his backpack in his hands, which he had obviously foraged from the wreckage of the truck, “Oh my god”, he muttered to himself under his breath, “you’re one of us”

“What did you do to me!?”

Hank continued to stare at him, his mouth opening and closing, but making no sound.

Finally, feeling the rage inside him snap, he lunged.

 

* * *

 

He looked on as the four of them were encased inside of their stone cases, and felt a twinge of regret as his eyes lingered on the stone statue that used to be the kid.

He didn’t want it to happen - why would he?

He was a good kid, and he would’ve made one hell of a soldier that his country could’ve been proud of later - maybe he’d could’ve been some big-shot general in the future - but it wasn’t going to be.

Well … there was no point crying over it now was there?

Methodically, and _very_ slowly, taking care not to jar his injured ribs and head (he really needed to see a doc), he stripped the car for what he could. Making sure that his case of Terrigen pods was still secure, he placed them at the side of the road, out the way of the wreckage, while he examined the rest of it.

The pods were his escape plan, and he couldn’t risk anything happening to them.

Going through the rest of the car, he pulled the supplies of food and extra clothes he’d nicked from the Academy’s stores off the back, while he pulled the boy’s pack of clothes and other supplies from their place on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat.

There was a little bit of blood on the dashboard, where it had dripped down from the boy’s head injuries, but his pack was still in good condition. The boy was taller than he was, but he was still skinnier than him, so he could use the boy’s clothes as spares to his own, and wasted no time in throwing them into his own Bergen.

He grabbed the last of the gear, pulled the straps on his Bergen tight, and slung it over his shoulder. All he needed now was the briefcase and then he could get out of there.

He was just stepping up to pick up the metal briefcase when he heard the first audible ‘CRACK’.

Setting the case back down, he moved around the truck, looking for the source of the noise, and expecting to see some kind of new tear in the body of his truck, only to find that there was none.

The three idiots that had tried to take him out were still encased in stone, but he could hear deep breaths being forced into someone’s lungs, and then, almost timidly, he moved around the rest of the way.

“Kid!” The word escaped his lips as he took in the sight of the broken cocoon. The boy was short of breath, and no doubt terrified at his change.

 

_Change_

 

“Oh my god”, the words just kept slipping out, “You’re one of us”

He saw the second the emotions switched across the kid’s face, flipping from terror into pure, unadulterated rage.

“What did you do to me!?”

He could hear the aggression in the boy’s voice, and tried to tell him, to explain, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

He watched on as the kid’s self-control was finally lost, and then, he lunged straight at him, his hand grabbing his wrist.

Both of them seized up.

And together, they fell down.

 

* * *

 

_Life for me, has always been about the opportunity._

_It’s all about finding the right moment, the perfect opportunity, and in that moment, at that time, you’re able to do just about anything you’ve ever wanted. Just look at me._

_I left the Army when I couldn’t stand being shot at and yelled at anymore, and then, when I finally got back home, I struggled for work, I couldn’t make ends meet and then I lost Sara._

_And what did they do to help me after my years of service?_

**_Fuck._ **

**_All_ ** _._

_Assholes._

_So I decided that if I wanted something to improve, then I had to make my own opportunities appear._

_I started out small - I’d knock over a few small stores here and there, took part in the occasional mugging, but I always got bored. I tried bigger stores, moving onto jewellers, banks, and I put myself together a nice little nest egg, until one day when I tried to mug the suit carrying the Terrigen pod._

_This government toolbag or whatever he was, took one look at me when I came out of the cocoon and wasted no time calling for security._

_So I ran._

_Or rather, I smoked, a trail straight outta there._

_And then I stayed off the radar._

_Until **they**_ _found me._

_Until she found me._

_Fucking Inhumans._

_But then again, all I had to do was wait, and eventually, the right opportunity showed up._

 

* * *

 

_“What’s an Inhuman?”_

 

The question snapped him back to reality, pulling him back to his feet abruptly. There was no dizziness, no desire to vomit or light headedness.

Gingerly, he prodded the back of his skull, where he had shattered the door mirror against his head, only to find nothing.

No cuts, no shards of mirror glass, no blood.

Nothing.

The soft ‘crunch’ of boots on gravel snapped his head away from staring at his hands, and towards where Hank was attempting to run off.

“Hey!”

The older man stopped to stare at him, and he used his pause to run forwards.

Only he didn’t run.

He vanished and reappeared a few feet in front of where he had been stood, surrounded by a cloud of smoke.

“What the Hell!”

“Woah”

He looked up from where he was panicking, attempting to bring his breath under control, to see Hank do the exact same move, and reappear right in front of him.

“Kid, you’ve got-“

He threw himself into the punch, hearing the satisfied break of a broken nose as he lunged to tackle him, throwing more punches against his already injured ribs.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?”

Hank grunted and groaned in pain, spitting blood off to the side as he threw his weight upwards, throwing the kid off, before sending a blast of smoke his way, the blast connecting with the kid’s chest, sending him flying backwards.

“FIX ME!”

He blasted the kid again, as he scrambled for his gear, throwing the bag back over his shoulder, the kid dashed straight in front of him, sending a front kick into his ribs, the added weight of the Bergen sending him sprawling onto his back

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?”

He and the kid had the exact same powers of smoke manipulation - that was practically unheard of, _nobody_ ever got the same powers - and while he’d had a good few years of practice using them, he was sore as hell, he’d been beaten enough that needed to go to a fucking hospital, and the kid was a bloody good fighter in a scrap.

Seeing a town in the distance, he threw as much power into his dashing ability as he could, knowing the kid wouldn’t be able to keep up with him, and he did what he’d been doing for the last few years.

He ran away.

He didn’t notice as the boy picked up the briefcase he’d left behind, as he ignored his screams for help.

 

* * *

 

**9 Hours Later**

His insides were burning.

He could feel it on the inside, trying to force its way out. The needles had gone from stabbing into his skin to trying to pierce their way out, each one mauling at him internally, tearing at his innards, burning him from within.

Tentatively, he took another few steps forward, taking another breath of relief when he didn’t dash forwards in a haze of smoke.

It had taken him a few hours and a powernap, but he finally seemed to have some minuscule grasp on his new freakish ability.

Or, at least, he’d finally stopped leaving a trail of smoke whenever he so much as moved a step forwards.

After he was done with his immediate goal, he was going to find Hank, no matter where he was, and he was going to have him fix whatever it was he had done to him.

He wasn’t going to stay abnormal.

 

_Inhuman._

 

It had been a long journey. He’d had to walk slower than the pace he could’ve run if he hadn’t ended up turning into a _bloody freak_. He couldn’t run without moving at least ten feet in a blaze of orange and black.

In the end, he’d controlled himself just enough to smoke-dash onto the back of a moving flatbed truck carrying hay, and from there, he’d caught three hours’ sleep, resting his head on the briefcase Hank had left behind, while he was unknowingly taxied across the state.

He awoke when they passed into Boston and rolled off the truck, straight onto the early morning road. The fall had resulted in a nasty bruise on his arm, but he was happy when he realised that he no longer had to deal with any of the blood loss, bruises and glass piercings from whatever the hell had happened earlier.

From _before_.

When he was normal.

He snagged a backpack from where it had been left next to a dumpster, and securely tucked the briefcase into it, before throwing it over his shoulder. The backpack was black in colour, it had a few tears and was covered in dirt, but it suited his purposes.

And then he walked.

It was 0457 hours, according to the wristwatch he’d been given at The Academy, when he finally arrived.

Silently, using the walking techniques he’d been taught in his Academy field-craft lessons, he crossed the lawn leading up to the Ward house.

The Ward house was what it was called.

_Not_ home.

_Never_ home.

It was too early for anyone in the house to be awake yet, which was exactly what he needed. Rose had sworn that she would be at the hospital with Thomas and their parents, and that only Christian would be in the house.

 

_Perfect._

 

Slipping into the garage with a code he’d known for years, after he’d watched his father type it in, unbeknownst to him, was simple enough, and, being careful not to wake his target in the rooms above him, he crossed the room, ignoring the sports cars that were sitting unused, he headed straight for the far corner, and straight for where she had told him to look.

Half-hidden by a white tarp sheet, was a large can of fuel and a box of matches.

The fumes from the fuel made him feel slightly woozy to begin with, but he was trained now to push through slight problems like that, and besides, being uncomfortable was nothing new for him in this house.

If anything, it made him feel slightly more normal.

He soaked the entrances to the house in fuel - making sure to get all of the doors and the ground floor windows, before covering as much of the exterior decking as he could - the wood would burn nicely, especially in the July heat.

He worked diligently, and in silence, determined to get it done as effectively as possible. The quicker, the better - he had a date with Hank whenever he could find him.

And when he was confident that there was enough done to start a real fire, he struck a match.

And watched as it burnt out instantly.

Immediately dropping it, he grabbed for a second one, striking it against the side of the box.

And the result was the same.

And the result was the same for the third, the fourth and the fifth matches.

When the eighth one fluttered out, he threw the box against the ground, before crushing it under his foot.

 

_IT’S NOT FAIR!_

_IT’S NEVER FAIR!_

_Christian always got away with everything! There were never any repercussions. Mom always blamed me, and dad always blamed Tommy. Rose was too **perfect** for it to be her, and Christian was the star son._

_Three-point-four grade average. Track star on his way to college with an all-but guaranteed scholarship - not that they needed the money - class president, and he had a spotless record._

_Everything the **perfect** Ward family needed._

 

Letting a growl of frustration loose from his throat, he twisted his heel, enjoying the sound of the matchsticks crunching into pieces as he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, bringing out tiny crescents of blood, before his hands exploded.

From his fists, a ball of smoke burst forth, smashing into the ground, and setting fire to the trail of fuel.

_Job done._

The blaze was instant.

And in way, it was beautiful.

The flames danced around, and licked at the house, but it just wasn’t enough.

Maybe it was the fuel he’d used, or the way he’d poured it out ( _was it too thinly spread?)_ , but the flames weren’t getting any higher than his waist level, before they started to fizzle out at the edges, dying off.

He didn’t know how long he had stood there for.

Seconds.

Minutes.

Hours.

He watched on as the flames continued to dance about, transfixed, and the smoke generated spiralled around him, creating patterns in the early morning air.

Tentatively, he stretched out one of his hands forwards, trying the see what his hand would do to the smoke, before he whipped it back in shock.

The smoke flew into his skin, leaving a slight haze behind, but he could feel it there, the smoke empowering him, making him feel stronger, faster and just _better_ than he had before.

And then, the window to the parlour smashed open, sending glass flying everywhere, and clad in only a pair of boxer shorts, his older brother fell out.

“YOU!”

His brother snarled, twisting his face, as he lunged for him, only to be met by a swift uppercut to his jaw.

Christian was sent backwards, scrambling away from him.

And straight to the feet of their father.

Standing at the front entrance to the property were both of their parents, Rose, and Thomas.

And they were all wearing their nightwear.

 

_They hadn’t been in the hospital._

_They’d been in bed._

_Asleep._

 

He took a step forward, only to watch as Tommy shrank backwards, and into their mother’s side, determined to look as small as possible. Rose shot him a smug look, which baffled him, but it was the expression of absolute fury on the faces of his parents and Christian that gave him pause.

In the process of watching the house burn, he’d failed to notice the front door being kicked down, or their arrival from their bedrooms, as well as that of the emergency services.

Which included the Boston Police Department.

One of the officers, he recognised him from the dinners he’d been forced to attend by his parents over the years, stopped briefly to speak to his father, who wasted no time in pointing straight at him.

Cautiously, visibly scanning him for a weapon as he stepped forwards, the officer moved his hands to his waist.

Where his gun was kept.

He ran through scenarios in his head - juvenile hall, prison, and worse flashed through his head. If his new abnormality came out, then he’d end up on a lab table in some lab for dissection.

 

_NO!_

 

So he did the only thing he could think of.

He turned, ignoring the officer yelling at him to “Freeze!”

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing a Terrigenesis scene was harder than I thought it'd be. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I don't think I did too badly either.
> 
> Anyways, now we have an Inhuman Ward, but we already knew that, and next up, we have a mission in Peru ... with some changes of course.
> 
> Please, leave a comment below (kudos as well? Maybe?, and let me know what you thought.
> 
> -MarvelMatt


	5. Building Blocks

**Chapter Five - Building Blocks**

 

* * *

 

"This is a bad idea"

Walking through the corridor of their mobile command unit, which he'd already decided, with May's (sort-of) approval, that his team was going to call 'The Bus', Agent Coulson couldn't help but roll his eyes at the fifth repeat of the warning he'd been given by his new second-in-command.

Yes - it's completely true that he brought Agent Ward on board for several reasons, one of which _was_ that he was able to do risk assessment - but it's been over twenty minutes since he began complaining about it, and he really needs him to let this one go, the decision's already been made, the paper work has already been sent over by HQ, and is now lying, half-completed, on the desk in his office.

"The girl stays Agent Ward", and in a muttered breath he added, "just get over it already"

The specialist shot him a dark look, highlighting the fact that his muttering had, in fact, been audible to the specialist, as Agent May stepped up to join the two of them.

"Ward's right", they both ignored Ward's look of thanks, as Coulson fought the urge to roll his eyes, but his old partner shot him a look which conveyed that she knew exactly what it was he was not doing, "you've already got two kids on this plane that aren't cleared for combat, and you want to add a third?"

He came to a stop in front of the holo-table, turning to give them his full attention, "Neither of you are saying anything that I haven't already considered", he held his hand to stop them as they went to start again, "and Director Fury agrees with me, besides I'm more than confident in our abilities to keep all three of them safe"

"She's not agent material"

"I agree", he takes some pleasure in the brief flash of surprise that crosses both of their faces, "which is why she's joining us as a consultant"

"Just like Stark? _Great…_ ", Ward's sarcasm was ignored by both of them, but the deadpan delivery gives Coulson a reason to grimace, breaking his mask for a moment.

He's more than sure that if they ever find out he's still alive, then The Avengers are actually going to kill him anyway. Not wanting to give anything away, he slid a smiling mask over his worry quickly, knowing that it will also serve to irritate his specialist.

"Yeah, just like Stark"

 

* * *

 

Somehow, she'd gone from a freelancing hacktivist (she wasn't a cyberterrorist - no matter what Agent Grouch said), to being a partial member-slash-consultant of one of the faceless government agencies she'd spent years fighting against in the space of a day, and now, she was in another country working for them, to track down a 'thing'.

 

_Do I need a passport while I'm here?_

 

Skye grimaced, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

 

_I_ really _hope not…_

 

She smiled as she looked at the team's science team, who'd introduced themselves under one name, and she'd had to quash the urge to squeal as she spoke to them. They were both British, with differing accents - one English and one Scottish - they were both dressed like matching junior Oxford professors, and there was a definite bit of a crush going on there.

They even already had their own ship name - Fitzsimmons!

She wanted to laugh at their adorable dorkiness.

They were taking selfies against the backdrop of the trees, trying to get as much of the natural jungle scenery as they could into the background, and she couldn't help but smile at them, they were just so damn _cute!_

She caught a glimpse of a flash from the corner of her eye, and turned as a full grin blossomed as she caught sight of the two scientists pressed up together, Jemma had her cell phone in hand as they moved to take another selfie with the small pyramid in the background.

Her hand was halfway to her pocket to whip out her own camera when she caught sight of him.

Mr Tall, Dark and Disapproving was shooting the duo a look that could've made flowers wilt as he shook his head, and his chest visibly strained as he forced what was supposed to be a calming breath into his lungs.

 

_Oh yeah … he looks like a bundle of laughs._

 

She shook her head, remembering how he'd been during her interrogation - looming and terrifying - and for a second in there, she could've sworn his eyes flashed orange, like some kind of power was lurking there, hiding behind those whiskey brown irises.

It was thrilling to see him get upset, to see those dark brown orbs flash brightly as he got more and more riled up, to see how far she could push him.

It was fun - even Agent Coulson had spent part of their interrogation of her, trying his best not to laugh at him.

She giggled slightly, but it was enough to grab Agent Ward's attention from across the clearing, and he turned the full brunt of his glare on her, until she was saved from what looked to be his mounting irritation by Agent Coulson leading her away by her elbow.

"So what's my role in all _this_ AC?"

She gestured around her where the other four were bustling about, Agents Ward and May getting equipment out of the SUV, while FitzSimmons looked on happily, almost _cooing_ over their hi-tech toys.

"I need you to get on the internet and do your thing", at her blank look, he pressed on, "I need you to get onto any local news sites, social media, anything like that. If word gets out about this, I need you to squash it, and get their attention diverted somewhere else, as far away from here as you can manage"

"So…", she narrowed her eyes at the bemused smile he was wearing, "basically, you want me to do everything I'm against?"

"Do you remember that anti-matter meteorite that crashed off the coast of LA?"

" _What?_ " Skye could feel the brief strain on her eyes as they widened, " _no_ …"

"Exactly", his smile was more of a grin now, "when things get too dangerous for civilians, SHIELD diverts them away. It helps keeps them safe, and that's what I need you to do for me"

They locked eyes, his earnest blue clashing against her suspicious brown, "So _why_ exactly are we here then?"

"I told you before, we're here because someone at SHIELD got word that there was an 0-8-4 in the area"

"And that means what exactly?"

He shot her a knowing look, which only served to heighten her curiosity, "That means… that we don't actually know what that means"

 

* * *

 

From his spot stood on the side of the ancient pyramid, Agent Ward took in all of his surroundings, scanning the immediate vicinity for any potential threats, and extending his senses as far as he could, allowing the sunlight to wash over him, as he strained his eyes and ears to pick up on anything.

He couldn't see anything, and the only thing he could hear other than what was happening around them was a group of people hiking through the surrounding forest, and one of them was complaining about the bugs.

He shook his head as his thoughts turned back to the immediate area, keeping track of Agent Coulson and the new consultant as they walked and talked at the edge of their work area, he made sure that the scientists were back to working instead of posing for time-wasting pictures, and from where she was stood, holding her position at the SUV, Agent May was also making sure to scope out her environment.

 

_At least_ someone _here is taking their job seriously._

 

He took a minute to walk the length of the pyramid front, as surprisingly short as it was, making sure to take in a view of the distance from each angle he could manage, and only when he decided he was satisfied that they were as completely safe as he could ask for, for the moment at least, did he descend the steps, making his way over to where Coulson was beckoning for them all.

They all chose to converge at the back of the SUV, May took up a place standing on the right of the group, sweeping her eyes from side-to-side, scanning the opposite side, and he took the position on the left, directly opposite her, as he nudged Agent Simmons off sideways to take her position.

He ignored the scowl Agent Fitz sent at him as his partner trod on one of his toes, as he turned his most of his attention to his boss, who still looked far too amused at everything for his liking.

"Agent Ward, I'm glad you could join us", Coulson smiled at the specialist in lieu of greeting him, and received an eye roll from his number two in return, which did nothing to dampen his spirits as he turned his attention back to the group as a whole, his entire demeanour becoming more serious, "we've received word of an 0-8-4 in the area, specifically, an unknown radiation coming from inside of this pyramid. Agent Ward, you will accompany Agents Fitz and Simmons inside the pyramid to see if we can determine what the 0-8-4 is, and how we can contain it, or even _if_ we can. Agent May and I will keep an eye on things out here, and Skye will be responsible for keeping everyone's attention away from this place while we get to work. Any questions?"

Recognising the dismissal for what it was, they all dispersed. May and Coulson made to walk off together, doing a joint sweep of the area, while talking under their breath, and Ward didn't feel like straining his ears just to listen in on their conversation.

Skye flounced off to her laptop, grabbing her case from where she'd left it on her seat, before she settled herself on the upper steps of the pyramid, booting up her laptop and immediately getting to work in a manner that almost rendered the senior agents impressed, not that they were going to let her know that any time soon.

Ward made his way over to where the science equipment Agents Fitz and Simmons had brought was neatly stacked up. The pile was made up of two shoulder bags and a crate. Each member of their two man science team shouldered a bag, before they picked up the large black SHIELD emblazoned crate between them, and made their way towards the steps.

Neither one of them was a field certified agent, and it quickly became apparent that neither one of them spent any time in the gym either, as they began to struggle before they even reached the steps of the pyramid. They'd managed to get up three of the twenty-six steps they had to climb before the dropped the case between them, lightly panting, already slightly out of breath, and he couldn't help the breathy chuckle the escaped from his chest, the trainer in him amused at their complete lack of conditioning.

 

_I've seen worse though._

 

He'd thought he'd smothered it, but he wasn't as quick as he thought he had been, as Fitz rounded on him, scowling again, in the same way he had earlier, to no real effect.

"You could help you know, instead of just bloody standing there!"

"Fitz!"

Ward clamped down on the smile that threatened to break out on his face at the site of the tiny female scientist yelling at her (not-so-much) bigger partner, as he stepped between them, wasting no time in lifting the case, and using it to nudge them forwards, as he shepherded them inside.

He followed the two of them straight down the corridor, as they followed the gadget Fitz was using to lead them deeper into the pyramid, following the straight corridor, until a the low beep they had been following grew faster and faster, until it sounded like one continuous noise.

Declaring they were 'here', Fitz set his bag on the floor as Simmons did the same, before they each pulled on a pair of latex gloves as they began to rifle through their bags, pulling out their tablets as Ward set the case at their feet, which they promptly ignored, focusing on the device embedded in the wall.

He took a quick look at the work area, checking for any structural damage that FitzSimmons seemed content to ignore, before he allowed himself to focus on the 0-8-4 itself, running his eyes over it.

And feeling his blood run cold.

He can see, the gleaming silver metal sticking out of the wall, from his vantage point at the back of the room.

One of them is inside a temple in Peru…

 

_How the hell did that happen?_

 

He could feel his own heartbeat speeding up inside his chest as he takes it in completely. He can feel the fear, and the thrill at _actually_ finding one of them - completely whole and undamaged.

He just needs to figure out a how to steal it from SHIELD without alerting them.

 

_But how on Earth did an obelisk end up in Peru?_

 

* * *

 

It's an easy decision to leave FitzSimmons alone with the obelisk.

They obviously know what they're doing, and they're not going to touch it - Agent Simmons gave Agent Fitz a _long_ dressing down when he attempted to remove his gloves about the unknown radiation they were picking up from it, and why they needed to proceed with extreme caution.

And if he's in there any longer with it, he might end up knocking the scientists out, and attempting to squirrel the thing away, which will end up with SHIELD hunting him down.

 

_Again…_

_Not that they were any good at it the first time._

 

He stepped out of the temple (or pyramid - whatever it is - like it actually _matters_ ), as Skye walked past him, turning her head, determined not to make eye contact with him, as he saw Coulson making his way up the stairs.

They passed each other as he was half-way down, exchanging a nod to say that, yes, everything was okay, as they swapped places and he made his way over to where Agent May was stood, taking everything in from her spot near the tree line, scanning her surroundings, seeing what he could see.

"You're not carrying a gun?"

Ward's voice broke May out of her reverie, as she took her eyes away from the trees to face him full-on. He was good - his file said as much. Thirty years old, and already said to be in the running for the position of best field agent SHIELD had ever seen, he had been described as 'the best since Romanoff', and she was the best of the best. Based on what she'd seen, she'd describe him as talented, definitely, but she wanted to reserve judgement on him. She'd met a lot of male agents who were misogynistic bastards, and Ward's old SO was definitely one of them, and she couldn't help but think, was he one too?

She'd love kicking his ass if that was the case.

"If I need one, I'll take one"

"Ah, yes, right, sorry, I forgot I was working with _The Cavalry_ "

The look she shot him could have melted steel, " _Don't_ call me that", her voice dripped with the unsaid threat, as her expression morphed into a smirk, " _Conduit"_

His eyebrows shot up, and he found himself actually taken by surprise as the two of them circled the edge of the treeline, moving closer together, before they narrowed, "You don't have clearance for that level of information. Even just knowing that that's me is Classified Level Eight"

"Coulson told me"

He didn't even bother to fight the irritated sigh that left his lips, "Of course he did"

"I am curious though, if some of the stories they say about you are true _Conduit_ "

"Well… I tell you mine if you tell me yours _Cavalry"_

"Hmm", she made a noise of discontent in her throat, "maybe some other time"

And then they struck.

May's arm shot straight into the trees, wrapping her arm around the wrist of whoever it was that had tried to sneak up on them, flipping them out and onto her knee. His back seizing up in pain, as she took his gun out of his hands and levelled it at his face.

Ward decided to take the more direct route, instead, he managed to grab a hold of the second man's collar, and wrenched him out of the trees, before dropping him onto his face, and casually drawing his own sidearm, aiming it straight at the back of his head.

"So you did need a gun"

She shot him a dry look, and for a second, he would've sworn he saw a smirk, "And like I said, I took one"

The 'click' of safeties being taken off of assault rifles reached their ears before they saw them, and they wasted no time in pulling the two, now-human shields, to their feet, and putting them in between themselves and the small army that stepped out of the trees, with their weapons aimed at them.

 

* * *

 

The three of them heard the shouting match long before Ward made his way back into the temple, looking much more harried than he had the last time the three of them had seen him.

"Are we ready to go?"

"What?"

"Why?"

"Who?"

Skye ducked her head as the other three turned to face her, "The others got to ask a question…", she trailed her mumbling off as Ward rolled his eyes.

"We've got some of the local militia on the way in, Coulson's working things out with the government here, but they're close, and we need to move"

"Well…"

"Agent Ward", Simmons spoke up from his right, "we need at least another ten minutes to safely remove the 0-8-4 from the wall and place it into a secure container"

Nodding to show that he had heard her, he pointed at the metallic silver box container at her feet, "Is that the secure container?"

"Yes, why-"

That was all he needed to hear, before he wrapped a cloth around his hand, and yanked the obelisk straight out of the wall, ignoring the squeaks of fear and the reprimand FitzSimmons were trying to give him, he dropped it straight into the container and snapped it shut, before stepping back as Fitz set about making sure the box was completely sealed shut.

When Fitz seemed satisfied, nodding to himself, he picked up the container and thrust it straight into the engineer's shaking hands.

"Let's go"

 

* * *

 

_"_ _Simmons, you have two Ph. D's in fields I can't even begin to pronounce, Ward, you speak what is it? Nine languages? Skye, you managed to hack the world's most secure network from a cheap laptop that you 'won in a bet', and Fitz… you are a rocket scientist. Figure it out"_

 

* * *

 

He kept an eye on their 'guests' from his spot on the couch, absently swirling the remainder of his whiskey around in his glass as he made sure that two of their new Peruvian friends were always in the corner of his eye.

Just because Coulson had a history with Reyes, didn't mean that he had to trust her, or her men.

"Hey", Skye's voice made him twist his head around, not shifting his body from where he was attempting to rest up on the couch, he saw her stepping towards him, pausing, before she stopped, decisively dropping to the seat next to him, her voice sounding torn between bold and timid, "I just kinda feel like you and I", she used her hands to point between them, "wrong foot"

"Oh?" He didn't bother trying to hide his own curiosity, "how so?"

"Just in how we look at things, I guess…", she trailed off uncertainly, "I mean, look at the Perus back there-"

"-Peruvians-"

"-Whatever they're called. They had a cause and they rallied together, you seemed bothered by it all, and I just think that it's amazing"

"You're right", Skye felt her surprise reflect on her face, _she was right?_ Before his next words cut her deeply, "All the violence, the bloodshed, mothers losing their children", he turned a glare on her that caused her to swallow slightly, as he spoke with a mocking tone, "it's _fantastic_ "

"It's not like that-"

"Really? I bet it all looks nice and cosy from your nice little van, where you're _safe_ , while you help stir up the trouble that starts wars and gets people killed. You just sit and type, while children get butchered in the street"

"It's not like that", when he didn't interrupt her, she took advantage of the break to try and explain, "just think about it like this… There's a 'thing' that these people don't like, so they band together, and figure it out between them. Everyone brings that bit more to the table. They don't need someone to have the whole solution, but if they have a hundred people with just one percent of the solution"

Huh", she shot him a look, and he rolled his eyes for the second time that day, "SHIELD doesn't think like that at all. I'm trained to be the full solution. I trained my old team to each be able to be the full solution before-"

"-You've been on a team before?"

"Put this on that coaster"

She felt her arguments die in her throat at the abrupt change of pace, not questioning him, as she took the only half empty whiskey glass out of his hands, even as he slowly picked up the tablet from its place on the table, shifting his body slightly as Skye moved closer to him, to get a better look at it.

He pulled up the footage from around the plane, and heard her breath hitch in her throat as she noticed what he had. Three men were outside the cockpit, two were in the cargo hold, stood outside of the lab, another two were actually in the lab, and the last two were still on the other side of the lounge area, not drinking their drinks, the ice in the whiskey having melted. Their _Commandante,_ Reyes, was still in Coulson's office with their boss where there wasn't a camera.

 

_Step one - make sure all ten of them are accounted for._

_Already done._

_Step two - don't get everybody else killed while you take care of them._

_Sounds tricky._

_Step three - install a camera in Coulson's office._

_Step four - find a stronger drink (you've earned it)._

 

Step one in his plan to ensure everyone's safety was complete, and now all he had to do was save his fellow agents, while not letting anyone get shot, stabbed or blown up, or allowing anyone to damage 'The Bus', or allowing himself to get shot, stabbed or blown up.

 

_Sounds easy._

 

He was about to place the tablet back on the desk when they moved.

The two outside of the cockpit rushed in, and he watched on as May's fist flew straight into the front man's nose, ready for combat with her pilot's gear on. She hot the autopilot, dropping the headset onto her chair, she went after them, striking them with her elbows and kicks across the narrow walkway, before the third man, who hadn't rushed the cockpit, found an opening, and levelled his automatic rifle at her chest, the second man joining him.

At the bottom left screen, the two men outside of the lab rushed it, joining their compatriots inside, securing the obelisk, and subduing FitzSimmons without a fight, as they allowed themselves to be led back into the cargo hold, as May and her three captors descended the stairs.

Which left himself, Skye, and the two other soldiers in the lounge, and he didn't miss it as they stood up, trying to casually move their hands to the pistols they kept on their thighs.

From his spot on the couch, Ward slowly turned his left shoulder, shielding his body, as he gently prised his right forearm out of the death grip Skye now had on him, hearing her heavy breathing as his ears moved closer to her mouth, feeling her exhale on his earlobes as he forced himself not to shudder.

And then, when her hands were off of him, and in her own lap, he threw himself over the back of the sofa.

Vaulting into the air, he sent his foot downwards, slamming into the chest of the front man, knocking him backwards, into their table, forgetting his weapon as he grabbed for the table, in a temporary struggle to regain his footing.

The second man wasted no time, not giving Ward a chance to land properly before he swung for him. He deflected the first blow with his forearm, but was pushed back by the force of the strike, hitting his lower back against the hard wooden frame of the couch.

He used the force of the hit to bounce forwards, retaliating with a low uppercut to the stomach, as he ducked under a left jab, before sending his elbow into the now-exposed jaw.

"Alto!"

He span around, his hand automatically going for the knife he had at the back of his trousers, as his eyes sought out the next target, freezing when he saw that three more men had entered the room, and two of them had their weapons trained on their consultant.

If five men were with them, that meant four were still downstairs.

May was supposed to be enough to handle them, but by all accounts, she hadn't been in the field in over a decade, and he wasn't too confident in her abilities now. Handling one was good, but he doubted she'd get by four, and he wasn't fast enough to stop his five, save Skye, get downstairs to assist May, and rescue Coulson before someone died.

"Agent Ward, stand down"

Coulson's voice crackled through the intercom system, giving him all the instruction he needed on how the boss wanted to go forwards.

Slowly, he raised both his hands into the air, letting them handcuff him, as they took his knife away, and did the same to Skye, before they were led downstairs, into the cargo hold.

He caught sight of the two men he'd managed to fight off, and it bolstered his pride to see the bruises and obvious signs of pain already forming, as the two of them shuffled slightly, rather than walked fully, with the group escorting them to the cargo hold.

The lab doors were already sealed, and FitzSimmons and May were already handcuffed. All three were unconscious, and one of their guards was bleeding from a large cut above his nasty-looking black eye, and a split lip - apparently May had decided to try and fight back.

He smirked at that, and the sight of his amusement, earned him a sharp blow to the back of his head from the butt of a rifle, which he barely noticed, his body still feeling the effects of the Peruvian midday sun. He thought he heard the 'crack' of the butt splitting but he ignored it, as he dropped to one knee, playing the role of the hurt specialist.

He heard a few chuckles coming from some of the others around the room, including the man who'd struck him, before he did it again, and he hit the floor, playing at being unconscious.

Keeping his eyes shut, he focused his hearing, listening on as they dragged him over to the other three.

Skye protested as she was cuffed onto the cargo bay doors, before he felt them contorting him into the same position, as they checked the others until the soldiers were satisfied the five of them were secured, and only when they were happy they wouldn't escape, did they leave them behind.

 

* * *

 

"Well, we need to come up with an escape plan at some point Jemma. Now would be a good time to start"

"I know that Fitz, but I think we would greatly benefit from having Agent Ward's assistance"

"And Agent May's", when the two scientists turned to look at her, Skye couldn't understand why they looked so confused, "what?"

"Agent May's not a field agent-"

"Yeah, she transferred in from admin"

"But she took out some if those soldiers before like it was easy!"

"Do you three ever stop talking?"

"Agent Ward-"

"-finally, we can-"

"How long have you been awake?"

Ward opened his eyes to find the three youngest members of the team staring sideways at him, while May was sat on the far end, doing a better job of hiding her irritation than he was.

"I was never actually unconscious"

He ignored the open mouth looks he was receiving from the two scientists, and focused on the indignant, and amusing, look Skye was sending to him, "Hang on", he couldn't help but think the glare she was trying to aim at him was, somewhat, cute, "so when I sat here for fifteen minutes talking to myself, you heard everything?"

He chuckled lightly, "I did enjoy the bit about missing your fuzzy bunny slippers. You know, you could ask Coulson to take us back to HQ for a day, and you could pick them up"

She turned a bright shade of deep red, and he smothered a laugh as he bit down on the grin as she glared back at him, while he took a look at the restraints that bound them, pulling on them to test the locks. They were each handcuffed to the bar used to raise the cargo bay door, which was connected to the air locks. The lab doors were sealed, and they were connected to the door leading to the lounge, by the same sealing mechanism.

"We can't break this bar can we?"

His voice broke through the next mini-argument forming between the three, before Fitz shook his head, sounding defeated.

"No, if you break the bar, you'll release the pressure from the door, and we'll all be sucked out"

"I still think we should wait for May to wake up"

"What?"

"Why?"

Ward chuckled, deep in his chest, drawing the attention of the other three back to him, causing Skye to eye him suspiciously, as he raised his eyebrow at her question, still smirking at FitzSimmons, "What do you know that we don't?"

"You guys have heard of The Cavalry, right?"

"What?"

"You mean she's-"

"I told you not to call me that"

The younger three whipped around, as May moved to test her own restraints in the same manner he had, before she decided to give them her full attention.

"Well _Conduit"_ , he winced at that, even as FitzSimmons comically-wide eyes became full gapes - did security clearance mean nothing to these people - but she continued to ignore him on that front, "how do you suppose we get out of this mess"

He smirked, "So there's a 'we' now?"

She shot him a glare that could've melted steel, "I want my plane back"

"Okay then, so the question is, how can we get ourselves out of here?"

 

* * *

 

_"_ _You've given my team something I couldn't"_

_"_ _Oh", she smiled down at him, like a cat amused by the mouse it had in its paws, "and what's that?"_

_"_ _A common enemy"_

 

* * *

 

The plan itself wasn't a complex one.

When Fitz told them step one was getting out of the handcuffs without breaking the bar, he slipped his thumb out of his socket as May dislocated her wrist, both of them amused by the ill reactions they received.

They helped the others from their handcuffs, May picked the lock on the pair Simmons had on, while Ward, making sure they couldn't see what he was doing, used the last of his extra strength to pull open the pairs Skye and Fitz were wearing, dropping them in a disposal unit, as May did the same.

He went with May, stood at the door to the lounge, while they let Skye drive their SUV into the lab doors.

_In hindsight,_ he mused, _she seemed far too enthusiastic about that idea…_

_This may have been a mistake…_

He could dwell on it later though, as Skye broke the seals, FitzSimmons went into the lab, making sure everything there was safe, while he and May burst into the lounge.

She immediately struck at the first two, going straight for their oxygen supply, using two straight strikes, with a viper's speed, and he couldn't help but be impressed at the way the fell to the ground instantly, clutching at their throats as they struggled to breathe.

May darted forward, sending a high kick towards the man in front of her, while Ward went sideways, leaping over the couch in the same manner he had earlier, bringing his elbow down, and into the side of the jaw of his first opponent, revelling in the snapping sound the bone made as it broke underneath his strike.

A swift uppercut to the already broken jaw ensured that his opponent wouldn't awaken for some time.

Another man stepped up behind him, grabbing him across the chest. Acting on years of instincts, honed by years of training, he threw his head straight back, hearing the break of a nose against the top of his skull, before bending forwards, throwing the soldier over his shoulder, letting him hit the ground, before slamming his knee down, and onto his jaw, knocking him out on contact.

And then someone blew a hole in the side of the plane.

 

_Who the hell tried to set off the grenade?_

 

The small explosion tore a hole in the side of the plane, knocking him sideways, the air sucking out the three men in front of him, pulling at him as he grabbed for the loose seatbelt, flapping in front of him.

He could feel the pure sunlight streaming in through the side of the plane, setting his cells on fire as he burned with the rejuvenation of his body, and the return of power, as he pushed himself away from the hole, willing his body to move forwards, through the air.

On the opposite side of the room, May sent a last kick to the kneecap of the man in front of him, breaking it, the leg twisting at an unnatural backwards angle, as she threw herself into the nearest chair, and belted herself in.

He saw Skye creep into the room, not doubt wondering what was going on, only to be pulled away by the extreme wind currents, kicking away the man that tried to grab his legs, he pulled himself forwards, throwing himself through the air, tackling her, sending them crashing to the floor.

He wasted no time, as they hit the ground, grabbing the solid wood cabinet next to him with both his hands, grateful everything was secured down, as he used his strength to keep them where they were, while Skye scrabbled for purchase, using her legs to grip his sides as she used her hands to reach up the wall.

He was about to pull her back down when she gave a cheer of triumph, and pulled, yanking down on a black cable, and the small red box mounted on the wall blew up orange.

He let out a disbelieving chuckle as the inflatable safety boat expanded to fill the hole in the side of the plane, as he looked down at a heavily breathing, but relieved, Skye.

"Nice way to think outside the box"

She laughed, breathless as he pulled her up, "Thanks", she took a few deep breaths, and he decidedly didn't stare at her chest, "I'm really glad you made me read that safety pamphlet now"

He laughed.

The sound of leather striking skin brought both of their attention back to the immediate threat, as the remaining four men that hadn't been thrown out into the air rushed at May.

Still feeling the effects of the sunlight on his skin, he crossed the room in three strides, grabbing the nearest two of using his strength to bang their two heads together, taking amusement from the way they slumped to the floor, completely unconscious, as May finished dealing with the last two.

"I'll check on Coulson, go see if FitzSimmons are okay"

His jaw tightened at being ordered around - he was the team's second-in-command - a fact which was noticed by May, even if she chose to ignore it as she marched off to find their boss.

Skye had already left him with the older woman, so he turned away, intending to follow her downstairs to the lab. He took a quick scan of the room, happy it was risk-free, before he moved on.

It was only day six of being on this team, and he already wished he was still working solo.

 

* * *

 

"Six days Coulson! Six days! That's how long it took for you and your team, to take my extremely refurbished, state of the art plane, and destroy it", Coulson opened his mouth to speak, hoping to get some of the blame shifted away from the team, but he was spoken over, "and to make it better, you managed to _lose_ the 0-8-4 I sent you in for"

Coulson shrank back slightly, towards one of The Bus's many cargo containers, as Director Fury, clad in the black leather trench coat he wore whenever he was particularly furious with someone, verbally tore into him, as he paced up and down the cargo hold.

"My team acted with my authority"

"Your authority?"

The Director scoffed at him, not looking amused in the slightest, "You've got two kids, not cleared for combat. Another kid, consultant, ex-Rising Tide, not cleared for combat. Former specialist, past her prime, not prepared for combat. And then you've got _him…_ "

"Agent Ward, you mean?"

"Yes. Our little _Conduit_ "

"You still won't tell me anything about him-"

"Level Nine only Coulson. You know how it works"

"I know that Sir, but-"

"So basically", the Director continued as though he hadn't heard him, "you've got a team that would _never_ be authorised for fieldwork, but I let you have it anyway, and then you let them trash my plane… and then, you have the _gall_ to talk to me about authority", Fury continued to pace in front of him, making him feel more nervous with every step he took, "you're gonna put this place back to exactly the way you found it, and I mean _exactly_ \- so no goddamn fish tank"

"Understood Sir"

"And those two. Agent Ward and this Skye girl you've picked up", he ran his good eye over the stairs that led to the lounge area, where they most likely were, "I don't trust either of them"

"I know that Sir"

Mollified for the moment, the Director left him alone, stalking off back into the SHIELD Base Triptych, as Coulson reached up to tap the earpiece he had in, "You guys hear that… yeah, that's a no on the fish tank"

 

* * *

 

When everything was done, and they'd been given leave for the night, he returned to his bunk.

They'd all been offered rooms at Triptych, and Coulson, FitzSimmons and Skye had agreed, all of them wanting to show Skye what one of SHIELD's smaller bases looked like, while he and May had decided to stick with their rooms on The Bus. May wanted to look over all of the repair work that had been done, and he had a call to make.

In his bunk, he checked he had locked the door, before he pulled out the Sat-phone he kept stored at the bottom of his duffle bag, and dialled one of the only five numbers he had stored away.

One ring.

Two rings.

"Grant?" He heard the voice come through the phone, happy to hear from him, and it brought a small smile to his face, just to hear her voice again, "Is that you?"

"Yeah… it's me. Just listen for a sec, I've err… I've got something for you"

"Ooh… lucky me. What've you got for me then?"

"Well, actually… I've got one of _them_ "

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and secretly enjoyed it. He loved that he seemed to be the only one who ever managed to catch her this far off-guard.

"You're sure?"

"I am"

"When can you get it to us?"

"I'll let you know as soon as possible"

She laughed at him down the phone, full of amusement and exasperation, and he could imagine her rolling her eyes at him, "I can't stay for long, I have a class to teach, and _you_ , should have people that need to be saved"

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going. Don't take it too easy on the kids now, G'bye"

"Bye! Love you!"

He smiled, feeling it stretch his face, "I love you too"

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys - I do apologise about the extended wait, but I hope it was worth it for you!
> 
> Please leave me a review, where I can see what you all think, as they do tend to help with the planning of future chapters and stories.
> 
> Chapter 06 shouldn't take nearly as long to be up here, where we return to teenaged Ward after the events of the fire.
> 
> 'Till next time,
> 
> -MarvelMatt


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